Friday, April 08, 2005

This Was One of My Distant Kin's Biography


BIOGRAPHY
of
JOHN K. BAIN
(February 8, 1827--August 31, 1916)
**
This story was first printed in the 1968 edition of "THE RECORD", an annual publication of the Garland County Historical Society. To them I owe to opportunity to have been able to read about the life of John K. Bain in his
own words. It was copied verbatim. No attempt was made to correct or define words or phrases as the author had
written them.

My ancestors came from Scotland. There were three brothers deported from Scotland on account of their religious belief. Their names were Charles Bain, George Bain, and Peter Bain. Charles settled in Maryland, George in Kentucky, and Peter in Virginia. I have met some of the descendants of George in the civil war, and later at Nashville, Tenn.
Peter Bain, who settled in Virginia, was my father’s grandfather. My father was born in Roanoke County, Virginia in about the year 1780. His father moved to South Carolina where he raised a large family. His name was Edwin Bain, and grandmother’s was Rachel, and her maiden name was Flaker.
Father’s brothers were Archibold Bain, Johnson Bain(my father),Peter Bain, David Bain, Richard Bain, John K. Bain, and Andrew Bain, the youngest of father’s brothers.(**disclaimer: the comma after (my father) should have been placed after
Johnson Bain. Peter Bain was the father of John K. Bain, this misplaced comma could be disleading)
Uncles Archibold, David and Andrew came to Tennessee from South Carolina in about the year 1812-1813, and settled in what was then called Warren County, near Caney Fork River, about six miles below the Great Falls.
Uncle David Bain married Mary Franks, and moved to Morgan County, Alabama and lived in Gandas Cove. Uncle Archibold lived and died in a new county Dalb, not far from Fathers. Father lived near the mouth of Sink Creek on Caney Fork river. He married there to Sina Benton, a daughter of David Benton, and old Revolutionary soldier. Grandmother Benton died at father’s house at the age of 85 years. Her maiden name was Womack, of English descent. I remember her well, being eight years of age when she died. Her first husband was named Jones, and they lived in South Carolina in time of the Revolutionary War.
After the Revolutionary war grandmother said they started to move to Kentucky, and in crossing a river her husband(Jones) and all the children got drowned except a boy Wellman, and girl Elizabeth. She herself, was washed down the river and caught some bushes until she was rescued. After she got to Kentucky she maried David Benton. Elizabeth Jones, her daughter, married a man by name of Suttle in Sumner County, Tenn. I was at Aunt Betty Suttle’s in the first part of the Civil War, and saw three of her boys, Sandy, Straughter, and Alford. Sandy Suttle was in the Mexican war with me in the year 1847.
My brothers and sisters were as follows: Henry, the oldest, William, Isaiah, John K., Jeramiah, and David. My sisters were Elizabeth and Lucinday.
I was born in DeKalb County, Tenn., February 8, 1827. Brothers Isaiah and Jeramiah lost their lives in the Civil War. Brother Isaiah died in prison at Alton, Ill. and brother Jeramiah got killed on the march from Dalton to Atlanta, Ga.
Now for my history. I was raised on a farm, as my father eventually owned over 800 acres of land, all in one body. I had to work from six years of age in the field, tho father hired many hands. I began plowing at the age of ten years, and made a regular hand, only going to school a little.
My first teacher was Tom Britton, and was only five years of age when I learned the alphabet and could spell Ba, etc. My next teacher was Sawyer. At twelve years of age I went to Miss Shaw, who boarded at home, so I went thru the old "blue back" spelling book and could read a little. My next teacher was Wilson Upchurch, next Joe Upchurch, and Glasco Harper, at which time I learned to write and cipher to long division.
In the year 1846, when I was nineteen years of age, the Mexican war broke out, and John H. Savage, a great lawyer at our county town, made up a company and I joined. We mustered once or twice a month until 1847, or later on, when Savage was appointed by the Government as colonel in the Mexican War. His brother A. M. Savage, became our Captain.
In September, 1847, we were called out, and went to Woodberry, in Canon County. There we elected our officers as follows: A. M. Savage, Captain; Rube Simpson, 1st Lieut.; Bill Bailey, 2nd Lieut.; and Givengs 1st Sargeant. We returned to our own county and set the day to start to Nashville.
That year we had raised at our house over thirty fine turkeys and all the kin and neighbors came in to see me start. Mother killed two turkeys and prepared a great feast. When I sat down I could only eat a few bites, so got up and went for my horse, some 200 yards away. Just as I got him saddled here came the crowd, and when my mother threw her arms around me I came near fainting. Finally I got away with a broken heart.
The next day after reaching town we had a big barbecue, then started towards Nashville. We got to Liberty, in the West end of the county, and staid all night, then marched thru Lebanon, arriving at Nashville the next day, camping in Aron V. Brown Park, two miles south of Nashville, called Camp Brown. While there the old Governor came every day, marching thru our camp shaking hands with all the boys. There we were mustered into service in the Third Tennessee brigade, Colonel Frank Cheatam brigade of infantry.
After remaining there a few weeks we marched to the square in Nashville, where Fountain E. Pitts made a grand speech to us. We were then put on a great steamer called Governor Jones, so down the Mississippi river to New Orleans. We were anchored out in the river and not allowed to land. We were then placed on a small three masted sail vessel called the La Trobed, and taken out to the Gulf of Mexico. In calm at night the sharks, and other fishes looked like fire in phosphorescent. Later there was a great storm and we all got very sea sick, and I came near dying, vomiting many days and nights.
After thirteen days we landed at Vera Cruz, in a great storm, casting anchor between the castle in the gulf and the wharf. We lay there three days before we could land, and when I got on the stone wharf it seemed to roll like the gulf. We were then marched two miles south of the city, near the gulf, where we remained until we were ordered to the City of Mexico, near 300 miles from there.
While in camp at Vera Cruz a soldier found a loose bomb that had been fired in the taking of the city, so he rolled it along, the powder spilling out on the ground. He then touched off the powder which reached the bomb and exploding it, wounding him badly by cutting a great gash in his face. I saw him after he got able to go.
The Castle of San Juan a Lola is on a bar of the Gulf of Mexico, and about one mile south east of Vera Cruz, and had many large cannon on it when taken by General Scott. It surrendered when the city did, which I think was in November, 1847.
When we left Vera Cruz to go to the City of Mexico we took what was called the Camino Nacional(National Road), and the first day marched some eight or ten miles and camped. We killed some cattle for rations. At that time there were no settlements along the road only what were called haciendas, owned by the priest, where the peons lived and worked for nothing. The place might be called a village.
The other scenery was all forest of great variety, such as cocoanut trees, palm trees, lime trees, or bushes; also brazil nut trees, not larger than an apple tree, under which the ground was covered with nuts inches deep. Under the lime trees the limes also covered the ground. Cacti was plenty, and occassionally we saw pine apples.
We marched on the National Bridge, a grand sight, over a small river. The bridge is 40 feet above the river, and one solid cement arch from bank to bank, over 200 yards long and 25 feet wide. there was a great bluff north of the road where a small battle was fought before General Scott got to Cegordo, where a great battle was fought and won by General Scott.
On the left of the road at Cegordo is a great bluff some 300 feet high, and the Cegordo mountains come down opposite the bluff in shape of a V appex 200 feet from the bluff. Here I saw the heads and one body of dead Mexicans, dry, and a few pieces of demolished cannon, probably two months after the battle.
We camped one night at the once residence of Santa Ana, a large two story house covered with tile, a brick chimney at each end, and a stone fence for miles. After leaving Cegordo we went on the Jalapo, a nice little city in a cove at the foot of Mount Oazabo, near the great Popocatopel, a mountain of perpetual snow. At Jalapo I saw ripe and green oranges on the same tree and hanging over the yard fences. This is the nicest place in Mexico.
We marched up the mountain four miles and camped on top, in cloud of mist, which met us like rain. This was near the great Popcatapel, which we saw while out in the gulf 100 miles away. Next morning we passed it some 300 yards to the left. Here I saw the largest bird of the fowl kind, a Condor, some 200 yards away.
We went on to what was called Warm Springs and camped. Here a Mexican stole Col. Frank Cheatam's horse, but the mexican and horse were captured. The Mexican was kept under guard, but I never knew what became of him.
We next arrived at Pueblo, a large and nice town, where we camped in a nice park and remained several days. The park covered some ten acres of ground and all walled in, with nice fountains, walks, roses, shrubbery, etc.
After leaving Pueblo we marched to Mexico City, the first day marching 30 miles. I was taken sick that day and hauled to the City in a wagon.
The City of Mexico is all walled in by a great wall 15 feet high and said to be ten miles square, with Lake Tusco on the South east. We were put in a barracks near the great Cathedral, said to be the greatest in the city. I got a good view of General Scott and all the army officers. I could see for miles up and down the streets. Later I was sent to the hospital, where I remained a few days, when I stole away and went back to the barracks, where I got scolded by the Capt.
The regiment had been moved out of the city five miles to Molinadelera, but as sick as I was I left the barracks, got in a wagon and went back to camp. I was then so sick with fever that I could not be sent back to the city. Also had a rising in my ear, erysipelas in my face, and throat trouble so I could scarcely swallow water; also siatic rheumatism in my left hip and thigh. I lay there for days and weeks before I was able to sit up in my bunk.
Our tent was the first in our company, and several coffins had been stacked up in it. A man by name of Allen kicked me one and said it was my size. After I got so I could walk the doctors said I had consumption, and in March I was discharged and sent home.
While at Molinadelera in camp two of our company, Joe Pack and Bob Jones, got in a fight, surrounded by others. Col. Cheatam came and stopt the fight, but Pack died that night and Bob Jones lived to get home, but was never well afterwards.
At Molinadelera is where a great battle was fought at the taking of the city. It was an open plain for miles, and five miles west of the city and about a mile west of the Castle of Chapultepec, the president's mansion. Less than one half mile from there is a nice little town called Torcubio, so the city was taken from the southwest.
In March, 1848, I, in company with many others, left Mexico City for home. I had a hard time, being very feeble. One night a man tried to rob me, but when I awoke and called out he left. After many hardships I got to Vera Cruz, got aboard ship and in seven days we were at the mouth of the Mississippi river. We were taken to New Orleans, where I took a boat for Nashville, Tenn. took stage to Smithville, got a horse and road home. I got there just after dark, very feeble.
Our old dog knew me, and when I knocked on the door the hired hand met me and told the others, mother and father ran to meet me and rejoiced, but I came near fainting. My health was very poor all summer (it was April then). I had a land warrant for 160 acres of land which I traded for a tract of land, sold the land for $250.00 and in November started to school.
The school was at a place 20 miles from home, near Falling Water creek, called Union Institute. The teachers name was William Gormly, a Campbellite Preacher. In February the next five months term began. My health by that time was much improved. Calvin Rhea and myself boarded at Jim Willis's, one mile from the school. Rhea was a good and smart man, so we studied hard and learned fast. (This was in the year 1849). At the end of the term we had an examination, also a barbecue and speaking, over 1000 people present. Rhea and I had great speeches pretending we were candidates for the the legislature, so we opposed each other, abusing each other for one half hour each.
Previously I had worn only jeans clothes, but on that day I wore my claw hammer broad cloth coat, high-heeled boots and nail keg hat, surprising the whole school. After the speaking the girls came around and bragged on my speech and fine clothes (there were about 40 young men and 20 grown girls in the school).
The school was then moved out on the stage road from Smithville to Sparta, five miles south of the former place. Gormley then hired a fine man by name of Richard Sanders to help him. Rhea and I were still great cronies and in the same class, so we went there on two sessions.
Gormley next moved his school within two miles of Smithville, our county town, and got me to help him teach, so here my school days were ended, the fall of 1850. I taught a three months school and then visited Uncle Dave Bain, coming back in Jan, 1851. In February, 1851, father died of pneumonia, at the age of 68 years. I remained with mother, helping brothers Jeremiah and Dave on the farm. Brother Henry and I were appointed administrator of fathers estate.
After mother's dowery was set aside we divided the land. Brother Henry got the 90 acres where he lived, sister Elizbeth Trammel got 200 acres where she lived, sister Lucinda Blanton got 100 acres where they lived, brother Isaiah got the place where he lived, do not remember the number of acres. Brother Bill at that time lived in Missouri. In the winter he came and one other place was given him, so in the first part of 1852 I went home with him and left brother Henry to collect the money owing the estate and make settlement.
While at brother Bill's, on three forks of Black River, I took notion to hunt gold in California, so I took the stage to St. Louis, which was a small steamboat town then. One quarter of a mile back of the wharf on the river was in black jack bushes.
I got in company with a Mr. Gehagy and his two boys who were going to California. We got on a boat going up the Missouri River to Kansas City. After a long voyage and many hardships we got to Kansas City, then a small village under the hill near the river. Only a few stores near the river and many tents on the higher ground containing immigrants to California. Mr. Gehagy said he would take me to California if I could not do any better, so I left all my clothes with him and walked 12 miles to Independence to learn of a train going from there.
When I got to Independence I saw a man by the name of Sam Ware who told me that a train had left that a.m. for California, and some people in the train needed a man. I walked a few miles, got to a house for dinner and hired a man to take me to Capt. Walker's train about 1 1/2 hours before sun down. We got to the train and went to a man by name of John Knite, as Ware had told me, and he got me a place with Mrs. Kerns, whose husband was in California. She and her mother and Mrs. Toomey, a widowed sister, and girl, and Mrs. Kerns and his brother Jack drove Mrs. Kern's wagon, and I was to drive a carriage for some of the women and children.
We left Kansas City April 15, 1852, had 16 wagons in our train drawn by from three to five yoke of oxen, besides many losse cattle and some horses. We passed one station where there was a store, and at the crossing of the Cow river one family lived, all prairie country except a few cotton wood trees on some of the streams.
We went on 500 miles to Fort Kerney on the bank of South Platte River, where there were a few soldiers, and in a few miles of there a large piece of land was sown in wheat on the plain, and said to be guarded at night to keep the buffalos off of it.
This was called the Pawnee Indian country. We went on up Platte river several hundred miles to Fort Laramie, never seeing a house only a few indian huts. We camped in a few miles of Fort Laramie, where one of our men died of cholera, another and myself waiting on him, and buried him, as the others were afraid to touch him. His name was Henry Myers.
The next day we corst Laramie Creek to the fort. Here were many soldiers and many indians as visitors. I saw an indian throw his four year old kid in the creek and it swam to shore. We crost Platte river and I came near going down in the quick sand while driving one of the teams. We saw about one acre of pine timber, which looked good.
We went on up Platte river many miles, seeing many buffalos and antelopes. We got to the crossing of the river and worked a day and one half swimming cattle, as it cost $1.00 per head to ferry them across. I worked all day in the river and quicksand, having to keep moving to keep from sinking. The day before a man was drowned at his place, having $5,000.00 in gold belted around him. His 30 mules were also drowned. We at last had to ferry many cattle over. There was one little house at this place.
A few days later Capt. Walker's father died of consumption, so we lay up a few days and went on the Independence Rock on Sweet Water creek, called the Devil's Bridge. It is 20 feet wide and 30 feet high, all one solid rock from bank to bank. About 100 yards from there Independence Rock rises nearly 100 feet at the center, and about 500 feet across the base. I went on top of it, all solid rock, and found hundreds of names painted on it. The next day we passed the Court House Rock, a large structure of rock which seemed to have doors and windows; also Chimney Rock, which is near 100 feet high and looks like a great stack chimney. There were also hundreds of names painted on it. I saw the name of a friend of mine named Jim Davis, who went to Claifornia in 1849. I saw one quarter mile south of there a great drove of elk.
We went thru Scotts Bluff, a road which seemed to be cut thru a mountain of sand loam 100 feet high. We camped on the side of this and that night it snowed. We went on to the South pass of the Rocky Mountains and camped on a high sandy plain close to Pacific Springs, which ran west into the Colorado river. Here was a small pine log house at the ferry.

We left Salt Lake City to our left, camping one night at Steamboat Springs close to Bear river. The steamboat springs spout up every second and falls back like the steam from a boiler of a steamboat, the water being impregnated with soda. There was a small town there at that time.
We took the road to Oregon, passing a dead volcano, in which I threw a rock but never heard it strike. We next went on by Walker Springs, named for Joe Walker, the explorer, and uncle of the captain of our train. We then went on to Fort Hall on Snake river, on of the head streams of Columbia river. Here are the great falls, 100 feet high. There were a few soldiers at the Fort, which is in Oregon. We lay here a few days on account of high water.
From this place we could see the great Mount Elias on the North. After we crost the Putna river we camped, then went thru the mountains to the head of Humbolt river, which was then called Mary's River. We went on to the great Humbolt Meadows, where afterwards a fearful massacre of a whole train of immigrants took place by the Mormons. Here we found growing what was then called wild rye, which was afterwards improved and a fine quality of wheat was the result.
We went to the mouth of the Humbolt and camped. The river here sinks into a mountain and is never heard of again. Some thinks it comes out in the Colorado gulf. Here we filled all kegs with water to cross the 40 mile desert of sand, left early in the morning and traveled all day, stopt and got supper. That night I drove cattle on the desert. We could see relics of other caravans that had started across the desert. Dead horses, mules, cattle, trunks, carptet bags, wagons, guns, wagon wheels, ox yokes, etc.
Water was getting scarce, and Capt. Walker was forced to buy water at $1.00 gallon to save his oxen. We went on to the Carson river, and I had five weak oxen to get on, having to ship them till I got to the top of a long hill, then they staggered down and into the river. this was about 9:00 a. m. and the cattle remained in the river till after noon.
At this place were many tents filled with traders and one saloon. A man there who knew Capt. Walker gave him a fat beef. We went on some two miles and camped. Capt. Walker wanted the beef, which was some two miles from there, and wanted someone to go for it. I was the one that finally had to go, tho I was very tired. The sun was only two hours high, so I started out, but my mule was so tired I could not go fast. Dark came on and I had not found the beef. I crost the river in quick sand and went on some distance and turned back, thinking I would get to Rag town and camp, but saw a light and started for it. When I got there they said I could camp with them, so I staked out my mule and supper was fixed for me, then I went to bed. That night wolves ran off all the mules but mine, so they took my mule and overtook theirs and brought them back.
Next morning I took the beef on to Rag Town, where a friend of mine gave me a drink of apple brandy which cost $2.00, but he had lots of gold, while I only had one quarter. I took the beef into camp and it was butchered, my mess getting a big share as I had gone after it.
We went on up the Carson river to where we struck the Cervana Mountains. Here there were a few huts, and the cite where Carson City Nevada is now. At a ravine here we had to lift the wagons over rocks four feet high, taking all day to go four miles. We camped here, and it snowed, the 10th day of August. We suffered very much at times for water, and had to cut down trees so the cattle could eat the leaves.
One day I drove cattle all day without water or anything to eat, and not water in camp, so good old Mary McClellon told me to milk a cow and she would fix me something to eat. I got about one gallon of milk so she strained it and made biscuit, so I had a good supper with milk to drink. Bless that good old maid.
We then went 300 miles over the mountains to what was called Moccelmo Minenes. Here I washed out one pan full of dirt and got a piece of gold as large as a wheat bran. We finally got to dry creek. Here I saw hundreds of miners at work, all washing out gold in a hand rocker, everyone wet thru. Some had clothes patched with flour sacks at the knees and other places. We next came to Iown Valley, where there were nice settlements and some gardening.
We arrived at Stockton, then a small village, and camped at teh edge of San Juan Valley at French Corral. San Juan valley of rich land was not then settled. The people here were cutting and baling hay to ship to San Francisco. Next day we came to San Juan river, crost and went up two miles and camped. It was the hottest day I thought I ever saw. That night a grizley bear came in ten feet of our wagon.
We next went on to San Jose Mission, then to San Jose and camped. Here we met kin and friends of our train. This was about the 15th or 20th, of September, 1852. At this place, I ate at a table for the first time in over five months, and felt almost ashamed with a face dirty and cracked by alkali.
A man by name of Holloway and akin to some of our train, came to meet them. I was made known to him, and he wanted me to go teach school near his house, agreeing to pay me $100.00 and board per month. Capt. Walker loaned me $25.00, so I got a cheap suit of clothes, had my hair cut, shaved and shoes shined, so looked and felt better. This was on Thursday, so on the next Monday I began teaching school nine miles west of San Jose, and in 300 yards of San Francisco bay.
I boarded at Bill Holloway's. He had two little girls 12 and 15 years of age. Had a fine school to teach in and a fine school of girls and boys. At night the grizley bears would come around the school and eat the scraps the children threw away.
After my school was out I bought a fine suit of clothes, a good pony and saddle. Capt. James Walker had made up a good school 32 miles down the valley at Gilroy, where I taught three months and boarded at Capt. Walker's. I then went to San Jose to live, bought a wagon and team and went to haulling freight from Alveso, nine miles west, to San Jose, making from eight to twelve dollars per day. I boarded with Mrs. Toomey, a lady who crossed the plains with us, so I staid with her till I started home.
I lay sick here for a long time of ague and fever, had paid about $150.00 doctor bill, so when I got better I sold my team and on December 16, 1853 I left for home. At San Francisco I took passage to New Orleans over what was called the Vanderbilt route, on board the great steamship Cartese. We went down the Pacific coast some 2,000 miles, sometimes in sight of coast mountains and at times see the smoke of volcanoes in the day and light of them at night. We came in sight of Acapulco, a coast town in Mexico.
Near Acapulco I saw a whaling ship, and later many whales spouting; also saw a whale ship after a whale. One day a whale about 50 feet long came from the right side of the ship, passing in front to the left side, not more than 10 feet away.
We came to the Gulf of California, where we were caught in an ocean wave and land wave from the Gulf, the sea running to the top of the smoke stack. We next came to San del Sar in Nicaragua, where we got mules and rode to Lake Nicaragua, there we took a steam ship to where the lake empties into San Juan river, took a boat to Castalian falls, and another boat to mouth of the river. The San Juan river is about 3000 miles long, narrow and deep. I saw corn from one foot high to ripe corn, also many coffee orchards, bananas, oranges, etc. Saw many monkeys, the finest mahogany groves and rosewood trees, parotts plentiful. Some of the alligators were 30 feet longs, and would like to lie in the grass until the boat would get near them then roll off in the water.
We arrived at the Bay of Honduras near Gray Town, where we were put on the steamer Daniel Webster. Here were two small islands called corn Isaland No. 1 and 2. We went thru the Caribean sea to Straits Otranto, where we came near being lost on a corral reef. We were in a storm, he line was thrown and we were in 40 feet of water. The Capt. came around and told us we were safe as we had a strong boat, and the next day would be New Years day and he would give us the best dinner we ever had, which he carried out to the letter. We came in sight of Cuba, next towards the mouth of the Mississippi river, where we got stuck in the mud in a fog and had to stake off, then the pilot boat came and took us in the river proper. The steam ship Star of the West, which came by Panama, was just ahead of us, so we raced up the river and just before reaching New Orleans we passed the Star of the West and won the trip. It was said that thousands of dollars was bet on the race to New Orleans.
I went to the hotel at New Orleans, then the theatre at night with my friend Tom Bell. The play was the Ghost of Hamlet. Tom Bell, Sam Ware, and myself stopt at what was called the Arcade Hotel, then a fine place. The Custom House was then under construction, being about ten feet high. We remained there a few days and took passage by boat up the Mississippi, passing Baton Rouge, then a nice town. The scenery so far was grand, and we saw many sugar farms, factories, etc. We went on up passing Natchex, Memphis, and up to Cairo, Ill. Here my two friends Sam Ware and Tom Bell went on to St. Louis on another boat, and I went up the Ohio to the mouth of the Cumberland, and up it to Nashville, Tenn. I then took stage to Smithville, where my old friends welcomed me home again.
The next day I got an express to haul my trunk and myself home. It rained all day and was near dark when we got to Sink Creek, within one and one-half miles of home, where Henry Adcock lived. Adcock was away from home and his wife also, just two boys there. The creek was past fording, so we had to stay all night there. The next morning I left my trunk and went back up the mountain two miles to the road to the mouth of Sink Creek, and walked down to Jim Brants, a preacher. The waters were so high there was no way to cross, but at noon someone came from the other side and called and Brant told them I was there and to inform my people. Soon my brothers Isaiah, Jeramiah, and Blanton, my brother in law came. I had a large hog through hauled to the waters and paddled across and got home to mother.
This was in February, 1854. My health was still poor, but by farming that year got my health back again. I bought out a store that fall, paid out my money and went in debt over $1000.00 at the bank. Here I sold dry goods and groceries until the last of 1855, selling out to Walk Webb all except what was called barter---brown jeans, lincy, yarn sox, etc., got in trade two wagons and some horses. I took the wagons and barter of everything and went to Mississippi and sold it well, came home collected all debts and paid my debts, and felt good.
In the fall of 1856 I taught a three month school at Bain church house, and one day while playing with the boys I fell and broke my collar bone and three ribs. Some of the schollars ran 300 yards for some camphor, but that did no good, but Ned Pollard came along and helped me home, nearly one quarter mile away. A doctor was sent for, arriving six hours later, as the town was twelve miles away. The doctor gave me one morphine and bandaged me up, which I wore a month. I go able to finish my school, after which I went to Smithville to clerk in a store for Dave Koger, working for him till he sold out to Jim Allen, worked for him until he sold out, then went to work for George Beckworth in a dry goods and grocery store, remaining with him until the civil war broke out.
At this place we had some happy times, having a special party weekly at some of the ladies' house, palying all the games of that age of the world. While here, and in 1860, I ran for County Register, having seven opponents, Tom Briant, Tom Potter, Walter Smith, a young lawyer Bill Richardson, and three others, so we canvassed the county making speeches in seventeen districts. Tom Pater, Bennett, McNamara, and myself were the democrates, and the other being Whigs.
Tom Pater had a great lawyer for an uncle, and his grand father was one of the wealthiest men in the county, so I had a strong crowd to run against. Potter was a brother Mason, and had raised a yarn on me because I lived with Beckworth that I was brot out on the No Nothing ticket, so at the next speaking I called him down. Well my majority was 25 votes over all the rest, and all the other opponents threw up their hats and yelled "hurrah for K", as that was what they called me.
Next day I was sworn in as register, made a $15,000.00 bond and never asked a man, they just came up and signed. The office was worth about $400.00 a year. I was spoken of as the next Circuit clerk, but in the spring of 1861 the civil war broke out and ruined all my future prospects.
A company was made up in our town and county of 103. When the election of officers was made Lucian N. Savage was made Captain, Lawyer Stone first Lieut., and I was second Lieut. and Dick Anderson Lieut. On April 16th, we were drawn up in line at the court house square to start for McMinville. All the old ladies who had boys in my command came to me and asked me to take good care of their boys.
We marched to McMinville and there took train to Camp Eliston, remaining there a few days and then went to Richland Station and staid there awhile, then went to Camp Trousdale, where there were five or six regiments camped. We remained there till the last of July. I had to drill the men most of the time, and was liked by all my men, was run for major and came near being elected, being beaten by Joe Goodbar, son of a banker at Sparta. He soon was replaced by Felker of McMinville, a good man.
The last of July, and after the battle of Manasas, which was July 21st, we were ordered to Lynchburg, Va. We remained there awhile and was ordered to West Va. going thru Monticello, home of Jefferson, then on thru Stanton, a nice little town, then to Warm Springs, then to Green Briar Bridge, where we camped a good while.
At this place I was ordered back to Warm Springs via Rough & Ready, to order up all the convalescents left behind in camps, had orders to press in service wagons and the necessary conveyances. After I left Staunton I took stage to Rough & Ready, thru the highest of the mountains, got a horse from the quarter master and rode down Jackson river about 100 miles.
When I got to the camps I made my report to Gen. Donaldson, and was praised by him. When we left here we were ordered to Rich Mountain. Two nights before we got there Col. Savage ordered me to take men and horses and go down the mountain and kill beef cattle for the camp, which I did, getting back just before day break.
We marched over the mountains and down some that were almost impassable for the horses, camping in three miles of the Yankee pickets. Next morning we started out and came upon three of the pickets, which were taken by us. Near here was a house where some women lived. Our guide was old man Woods, and who had a son in the army. We came onto another picket which young Woods shot, the ball scalping the back of the skull. We captured another picket and the Captain, who was fishing. We then double quicked to the house, where 60 fine Yankees came out and charged bayonets. I got in the yard and ordered them to throw down their arms, which they did and we soon had their guns. A lieut. gave me his sword. These were from Cincinnati.
We marched on wading creeks until one hour of sun down. General Donelson sent guide Woods back after General Lee, and guide Butcher took us over the mountain to near Rosencrans army of yankees.
Col. Savage went near the yankees pickets, then marched us back up the path, every man having to stay silent. We marched up the mountain in the hardest rain imaginable, and so dark that each man had to hold the man's hand in front of him. Next morning Lee marched us out, and here was a big battle.
In the night about 20 yankees had marched around to a small house where we left the road to go over the mountains, and staid there out of the rain. The guide Woods, Gen. Lee, and aid de camp stopt there, Woods making some coffee by holding an oil cloth over the fire to keep the rain from putting it out. Next morning Woods found a horse track leading up the mountain, so Gen. Lee consulted with his officers and we started back, the Yankees having come around to the rear. We had to cut our way thru them, firing in all directions. We had one man killed named Martin, and twelve yankees were killed. Our company was now in the rear, so while waitng here 15 yankees who had been on guard, came up thinking our command was theirs, so we took them prisoners and marched out.
That night we camped near where we had taken the 60 prisoners the day before, and as we had no rations we had to kill cattle, the mountains being full of them. We roasted the beef before the fire and ate it without salt or bread.
We remained here seven days and nights. General Rosencrans, the Yankee general, moved back to Sweet Mountain and camped, and we went back to Green Briar Bridge. From there we went to Charleston, W. Va., and from there to Sweet Mountain, opposite General Rosencrans army, and with only a large canon between us. We fortified with breast works. here one of our soldiers killed himself accidentally by pulling his gun to him. We could see the Yanks daily and hear them talk; so we lay there about one month, General Lee with us.
Finally Gen. Rosencrans left, then we went over and captured a few things, and one man. Gen. Lee then marched us back to Charleston, W. Va., where he left us. We remained there over a month, then our regiment was ordered to Whiteville on
the Tennessee and Virginia Ry., near Abington, VA. From there we were ordered to Charleston, S. C., passing thru Lynchburg, Petersburg, and on thru Wilmington, N. C., then to Charleston, where we remained a few days, and where I saw Fort Monroe and Fort Moultree.
We were then sent up the railroad about 40 miles to a station called Pocotalgo, close to Port Royal on the Atlantic, then we were ordered close to there where we were attacked by a gunboat. We killed an officer but lost no men, just one wounded.
We camped near Port Royal for over a month, in about 100 yards of the sea. Just across the bay was Buford Island, covered with Yankees, and they would come out on the shore and laugh and call to us. One day our men thot they would have some fun, so they got a stove pipe and put it on the hind wheels of a carriage and rolled it over on the wharf, so about fifty that were out ran bak to safety, while we had the laugh on them.
We had to guard the coast day and night, and I was officer of the day, had to put out guards and visit them at midnight, going thru swamps and swamp grass for about a mile. We were under General Pemberton here.
I was detailed to go home from this place as a recruiting officer, and when I got to Smithville had a great time, and of course going to see my girl. When I got back the army had moved up the road towards Savannah, where we remained until ordered to Corinth, Miss., the battle of Shilo had then been fought. We took the cars, but when we got to Dalton we found that we could not get thru by Chattanooga, as the Yankees had the railroad at Stevenson.
While at Dalton I went in the jail to see the three Yankee spies who stoled a train at Big Shanta, Ga. All three were hung afterwards, and I saw Andrew the leader hung in Atlanta the next June as I went home from the army.
Our regiment was forced to go back and go by way of Montgomery, Ala., took a boat there for down the river, the name of the boat being Southern Republic. We reached Mobile, remained two days, then took train to Corinth, where we staid for some time preparing for another battle. I was detailed to take fifty men and cut down trees, general Polk giving me the instructions how he wanted it down. While at Corinth, Col. Savage introduced to me John C. Breckenridge, former Vice President.
At Corinth we had a reunion to elect new officers, but I. C. Stone and myself did not run. We were discharged and went home. In the fall I joined what was called Combs Batalian where my four brothers were. They had been prisones at Camp Martin, Indiana, but by the time I got to the command brothers Isaiah and David had been recaptured. Brother David was sick and left at Memphis in a dying condition but he got well and sent to Rock Island for fifteen months. Brother Isaiah was taken to Alton, Ill., where he died in prison.
Our command was ordered next to Vicksburg, where we had a bad time from the rain and cold. We also had a battle here at what was called Chicasaw Bayou. Gen. Sherman left us and we were ordered to Port Hudson, ten miles above Baton Rouge. We were here attached to the 50th Tenn. regiment, Col. Sugg in command.
On the 14th, of March, 1863 five gun boats undertook to pass our batteries on the river, so our company marched about one half mile thru an oopen field to the breast works, bombs falling all around us from 100 cannon on the boats. Finally our batteries shot red hot balls and set the steamship Mississippi on fire, so she came floating down, bombs exploding, the fire to top of her mast until she struck a bar on the opposite side. The wounded were hollering, and those able were jumping overboard and swimming to land.
Admiral Dewey was in command, but had taken a boat and gotten away. The Mississippi floated down ten miles and blew up. We never lost but one man. Two boats got by and the other two fell back. The next morning our cavalry took the refugees prisoners. There were several gun boats seven miles down the river who afterwards threw bombs over our way, but did not damage other than scaring us.
We staid there until the first of May, when we were ordered to Jackson, Miss., and when we got there we were ordered to Raymond, 16 miles west of Jackson. Here we had a big battle. Our regiment was to guard Bledsoe battery, which we did for awhile; the battle went on and we were ordered over in a field. Our colonel made a mistake marching us close to the Yanks and they turned loose on us, wounding one man, then we fell back in the lane, which had been washed three feet deep.
I saw two cannon march out of the field and on a hill, so the major and I got the colonel to march us out in quick time. We got across the lane when the cannon opened fire. We were double quicking, and another man and myself were marching touching elbows, stooping over, when a cannon ball passed over me and cut the other man in two. He raised, ran four feet and fell dead. We went on about 100 yards and got on lower ground, so the cannon stopt.
A videt ordered us out, but the lanes were full and had us cut off. When we passed the mouth of the lane we were in 40 yards of them, but a bunch of our cavalry stopt them. We marched thru Raymond and met Gen. Grey, who was overjoyed to see us, thinking we had been captured. We went on four miles and camped, the Yanks camping in Raymond. This battle was on the 16th of June.
We were again ordered in line for battle, this time in a corn field, the corn being knee high and mud knee deep. We maneuvered here till in the evening. We got in sight of the north road and it was full of Yankees. I took towards Jackson and saw the smoke, the Yanks were burning the comisaries and ammunitions, so Joseph Johnston marched us four miles and camped in the mud. Here I got a piece of corn bread for supper. I pulled off my boots, and my feet were in a fearful condition from the mud in my boots, but I could not get my boots back on. The next day I marched all day in my sock feet, suffering very much. The Capt. needing my services ordered me a pair of shoes, but they were too small and were traded for a pair of boots.
Grant and Sherman wer now in the rear of Vicksburg bombarding Gen. Pemberton, while Joseph E. Johnston was preparing to get in their rear. We got rations and started on July 5th, getting to the crossing of Big Black River, the federal cavalry on the other side. Vicksburg had fallen on the 4th. We then marched to Jackson, Miss. All the water I got was out of ponds as red as mud with horses and mules in it while I filled my canteen. Oh! War is what Gen. Sherman afterwards said it was.
We got to Jackson and went into the ditches, it being ditched on the west side. Here we fought ten days and nights. All the houses that sharp shoooters could fire from were burned on th second day. I was ordered to headquarters, and then ordered to take some men and report at cooks camp on Pearl river to draw rations and have them cooked. While waiting at the doctors headquarters for conveyances we sat down to rest, and the sharp shooters kept firing at us. I told the men to move across the road, and all did but one man who would not move. He was hit in the arm by a ball just as we got across, so we took him to the doctor who amputated his arm, be he died the next day.
I got the rations and helped cook them, then had to take them to camp at night. The Yanks would fire at the sound of our wagons, and one night a shot killed on of our mules, so we had to cut him out and had to retreat. I had not slept then for four days and nights, but was then ordered to take the three wagons and go to Brandon, over 20 miles away. When we got there I lay down and slept, and next morning felt much better.
Gen. Johnston then took us to Meridian, Miss. where we rested a few days and then went to Enterprise, the next town on the railroad. We remained here until we started for Chicamauga. We took railroad to Mobile, Ala., then to Montgomery, next to Atlanta, then the state road to near Ringgold. We reached there September 17th, 1863, camped in two miles of Ringgold.
The next day, Sept. 18th, we started to line up for battle. We soon met the Yanks cavalry west of Chicamauga creek and they fired cannons at us. We charged on them and they left. We marched on until near dark, and again ran into Yankee cavalry, driving them off, and lying in line on a ridge that night. I had to go down the line in the dark and place pickets. The Colonel, Major, and Lieut. slept in the same small place together, talking of what they were going to do on the morrow. We all lay in line, the 30th Tenn. and the 7th Texas, until after noon. We kept hearing cannon and small arms on our right, and at last here they came. Our orders were to not fire until ordered under penalty of death, so the Yankees struck the 30th Tenn. and mowed them down. I was sitting behind a small tree and a shot hit it in the center about the middle of my body. I saw an officer on a gray horse 60 yards away and fired at him. Just then we were ordered to fire and charge.
About this time Jack Grace was hit and killed, and two more on my left wounded, and as I passed Beaumont, the Lieut. Col. who was shot down I heard his last words, which were "Where is the litter bearer?" I loaded and shot again, then ran about
fifty steps to a big pine tree, the Yanks running by this time. I saw a Yank behind another pine tree about 30 steps away, so I loaded my gun, capped it and had a bead on him, finger on the trigger, when he fired, shot me in the right hand, my gun dropping. No one was near me but Col. Shrug, he waived his sword and said for me to go ahead, but I told him I was shot, holding up my right hand. He told me to go to the rear. I stood there long enough to wrap a rag around my hand, then looked and saw the man who shot me fall on his face. I also saw the gray horse close by dead.
I went back three fourths of a mile to a creek. When I got to the doctor he took hold of the bone and shoot it, gave me some morphine and brandy. this was on the evening of September 19, 1863. By night there were over 2000 wounded there. Brother Dave got permission to come to me. It was cold and frosty, so brother build me a fire, and I lay there till Sunday evening the 20th, sufering agony. The doctors then put me under chloroform and took out the bone of my hand, so I remained there till the next Wednesday, then walked fourteen miles to Ringgold next day.
Brother Dave took me to the train and I went to Dalton. there a good lady had her negro lift me out of the car and she dressed my hand, gave me something to eat, and the next day we go to Marietta, Ga., where there were two large hospitals. I walked to the third story of one, where I was grabbed by two nurses who began to cut off my coat, and bloody shirt. I told them to lay me down as I was about to faint. As I fell they caught me and carried me to a room and got the doctor, he told them to let me rest awhile.
The doctor and ward master were brother Masons, so all that could be done for me was done, so I lay there fourteen days, not sleeping in the meantime. The board of doctors came to cut off my hand, but my doctor put them off for the fourth time. They came again and insisted on cutting off my hand, but my doctor told them if I was no better next day we would consent. By next morning I had slept abut three hours, my doctor came at daylight, took out six small pieces of bone, dressed my hand, gave me some wine, mild and soft egg, which made me feel better. At nine o'clock the board of doctors came with their instruments, felt my pulse, looked at my tongue and left, and I have never seen but one of them since.
I soon got able to sit up and walk about the room, so remained there till after the fight at Missionary Ridge, then was sent to Forsythe, Ga. My doctor said at the next meeting of the board he would recommend a furlough for me, which he did and I was granted a 60 day leave with transportation to Milner. When I got to Milner I was given a good dinner and went to the house of Tom Williams, to where I had been recomended to go. There I was joyfully received, my hand dressed by Mrs. Williams. Tom had a boy wounded and in the Murphreesboro hospital. He was master mason and took me to the meetings with him, going with him to Jasper County to install the officers.
While at Mr. Williams two of his cousins visited him, the Misses Sarah Lou and Fannie Hartsfield. The former, Miss Sarah Lou afterwards became my wife.
After my sixty days were up I went back to Forsyth to get it renewed, and the president of the board, after an examination, extended it sixty days, so I went back to Mr. Williams and remained the other sixty days. My hand was healed by this time, but kept swollen. On another visit by the Misses Harsfield a preacher of the same faith as they, (Primitive Baptist) and I were invited to visit them, which we did.
While there we got water bound and had to remain three days, being highly entertained by the Hartsfields. While there the friendship of Miss Sarah Lou and myself began to increase, as you will find out further on.
My regiment was camped at Dalton, Ga., so I went back to the command and was appointed Suttler of the regiment. At this time, March, 1864, the Yankees were at Ringgold under Gen. Sherman, 60,000 in number. Joseph Johnson, our general only had 30, 000 troops. At a place called Rocky Face there were skirmishing daily, until April, when Gen. Johnson fell back to Resacca, on a small river, where a big battle took place, and many of my best friends were killed, Colonel Stanton being one.
Johnson moved back slowly, Sherman following trying to flank our army until in June at Kenesaw Mountain near Marietta, we had another big battle. The armies were camped from 300 to 400 yards apart behind strong breast works. I was in the rear with the wagons, having head logs to shoot under. One night the Yanks made a charge on us, but we covered the ground with their dead, while our army only lost a few. Johnson then fell back near Atlanta.
After lying here for a short time Johnson was relieved and Gen. Hood took his place. On the 22 of July the great battle of Atlanta was fought. I lost many friends here. Atlanta was well fortified, so the Yanks did not get in the city. The trenches around the city were filled with boys from 16 to 18 years of age and old men over 45 years, so our army could watch the flank movements of Sherman.
While here I bought a horse and wagon and sold bread and pies to the soldiers at one dollar per, making as high as $200.00 some days. Finally the yanks got around to Jonesboro, where another battle took place. I left Atlanta just in time, travelling all day with a sick man. We were directed to a preacher's house, some 20 miles in the rear, but when I got there he would not take us in, directing us to a mill a mile away. We got there after dark and could not stay there, went on to another house and was told we could not remain there, but I finally persuaded him to give me some horse feed, and lot my horse there. Went back to the wagon and was going to camp, but the man came to me and said to bring the sick man in, which I did and supper was fixed for us.
There were two boys and two grown girls and a good old mother, so we had a good bed on which to sleep. We remained there several days, Mr. Null, the sick man getting better we went back to the army at Jonesboro. The Yankees were in Atlanta, and Sherman had a ten days armistice to order out all the citizens of Atlanta to Lovejoy, a railroad station near Griffin.
This was a deplorable sight. Women, old men and children, sick and wounded, and some of the children got killed by the cars. Gen. Hood was then preparing to go to Nashville, Tenn. Null left me here at Palmetto, and I went to Union to get a place to stay for the night. My horse was stolen from me, but had a mule, which I sold with the wagon and went to Okelaca, wehre the Columbus RR reaches the Montgomery RR. When the train from Columbus came in I met my good doctor Graves, who treated me at Marietta.
I took the train to Montgomery and from there by boat to Selma, Ala, then took the train to Demopolis, then went to Cuba Station and hired a man to take me to my uncles, John K. Bain, in Choctaw County near Tombigbee river. I remained there about a month and went to Meridian, Miss., then to Oklahoma, Miss. there I saw my colonel who told me that I could not do any good to keep up the army, so bought a horse and started for Marion Co., Ala.
I went to my cousin John Bain's house and remained till after Christmas, 1864. Sometime in January, 1865, he wanted to go to his mother's, Aunt Polly Bain, Uncle David's wife, who lived in Morgan Co., Ala. He took his oxen and wagon and a boy eleven years of age and we started with plenty of rations to do us on the trip. We first camped at a house, and the next morning started out, the boy driving, while cousin and I walked behind. Suddenly five men arose with cocked guns and halted us, said we were running away to the Yanks, but my papers showed hem different. They then said they would take us to their captain.
They marched us off 100 yards, took cousin John and two remained with me. The oldest man told me to do as they said and I would not be hurt, so he took all my money, $1150.00 confederate, made me paull off my good clothes and put on his rags, took the rings off my fingers. In the meantime they had stripped cousin John, then went to the wagon and took my saddle bags full of clothes, army pistol, etc., then held a consultation, but let us go. We were again halted by two boys about 18 years old, but they let us go, seeing we had been robbed.
Cousin John knoew some of the men who robbed us, and it seems that the little boy with us was what saved our lives. On the way cousin John put in his wagon what was called a die rock. The night we stopped at a widow Brooks, who we both knew. She gave us supper and asked us about the robbers, but we told her we knew nothing. She said that a man had been killed one mile from there a few days before. I did not sleep that night, for I heard people stirring around which seemed too suspicious.
We left next morning and traveled all day, eating scraps of provisions left over. We camped in eight miles of cousin Rachel Nobles near a mill, where cousin John traded his die rock to the mill for meal and meat, so we ate supper. We got to cousin Rachel's next day for dinner and remained all night, going on four miles to aunt Polly's, and she gave us some old clothes. I sold cousin John my horse in a few days and he left, but I staid there till about the first of February. Cousin Rachel made me a good suit of clothes. I then took a notion to go home, and hired a man to take me to Tennessee river, near Tryana. As I went to the command in 1863 I had passed this town but now the Yankee gun boats were there, but I gave a man $25.00 to smuggle me across.
I took the road to a house one mile away, where I had staid as I went to command. I was admitted, showed my papers to prove that I was not a spy. The lady who was there before had died, but an old lady by name of O'Neal had the place. We talked till twelve that night, and she told me to go to the next house where Mr. Lenear lived who could give me the proper directions. When I got thre and made myself known I told him I was on my way home, but he said I was liable to capture by the Yankees and taken north to prison. This was what was called Buzzard Roost mountain, five miles along and coming within a quarter mile of the house, with Yankees camped all along the base.
Mr. Lanear told me to remain there till after dark and then to travel by the North Star 30 miles to a friend of his who would further direct me. So we staid in the basement until after dark, when I started thru the cornfield between the Yankee pickets and their army, then took the direction of the North Star for 30 miles, walking till day light, when I came upon a negro. I asked him where the man lived who I was seeking, so he said he was going there and would take me, one quarter mile away.
When I got to the house the man was out feeding, so I went out to see him, be he was scared. When I told him I was sent there he went to the house and consulted with another man for some time, then told me to go to another house 3/4 mile away, which I did. When I got there and told the man my mission, who I was and who sent me, he laughted and said he could not keep me, as he had taken the oath to not protect or harbor a rebel, at the same time took me in the kitchen and introduced me to his wife and daughters, telling his wife to not give me anything to eat. After I had washed I was given a fine breakfast, after which I went to bed and slept till dinner. After dinner he took me 17 miles to some of his friends.
Next day I took road for home, and when I got to Winchester, Tenn. staid all night at a house. The man had taken the oath, and advised me to give up to the provost marshall, which I did. I came up with two good men by name of Stamper and Williams, so we three were placed in charge of a sargeant to take to Nashville. When we got there they got us a good dinner.
We were then put on the train to take to Tullahoma to report to Con. Begley. They were going to put us in stockade in the mud till morning, but we begged to go that night, so finally he agreed, and we left that night for Nashville, arriving at 4:00 o'clock the next morning.
After breakfast we all went to the provost marshall office where we took the oath of allegiance, after which I told them goodbye. I went on down the street and met Tom Potter and he took me to his uncle's office, a lawyer by name of Bob Cantrell who was getting men out of prison. Went on down the street and met Capt. Tom Taylor, who had also taken the oath, who invited us to go take some brandy to help hold the oath down.
My old friend George Beckwith had moved to Nashville and was running a store there, where I went and staid awhile. A man there from my county bought a horse to take home and took me with him to Liberty, and from there I went home, but had to report back to Nashville in fifteen days on my parole. When I went back there I began to clerk for Beckwith at $40.00 per month, remaining there over a year, then went to clerk for Sam Hunt at $75.00 per month. I remained with Hunt till after I married, which was February 3, 1867, remaining with Hunt another year, and our first boy was born (Thomas Allen) there.
After I left Hunt's I went to gardening at John H. Williams, and did well for a while, but at one time just as I was ready to market my produce the cholera broke out and I was debarred from selling it. After that a man by name of Bradley got me to go back to town and go in business with him, I ran the store and he the market, making good money till we burned out.
After that I began clerking for Frith on the corner of Brand and Cherry Sts. My baby boy took sick and died at 19 months of age. I then bot a horse and wagon and went into the marketing business. In the meantime our little girl Fannie E. was born and lived till 16 months old and died.
In 1870 I moved back to my old farm in Dekalb County, Tenn. where I farmed till 1881. Here my last five children were born, Louise, Georgia, John K., Hollace Harrison, and James Hartsfield. I owned the land of my mothers, she dying in 1880 at the age of 91 years.
In September, 1881 I sold out and started to Arkansas, arriving at Hot Springs on October 20, 1881.

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On October 23, 1948, a daughter of John K. Bain dated and added the following notes to this chronicle:
"The two oldest children of John K. Bain died and are buried in Nashville, Tenn. The writer---John K. Bain--moved in Oct. 1870, 80 miles above Nashville to DeKalb Co., 12 miles from McMinville, 10 from town of Smithville. There the third child was born, a daughter, Jan. 20th, 1871, named Lula. Georgia another daughter arrived Jan. 23, 1873. In Nov. 2, 1874, John
K. Junior--Hollace Harrison, sept. 1st, 1876---James Hartsfield born July 22, 1878. He moved to Hot Springs, Ark. Oct. 20, 1881."
"My father wrote this biography at age of 86 or 87 years---retaining good memory untill the illness which took him from us. He died Aug. 31, 1915, 23 years after Mother passed away. Sister Georgia died March 10th, 1895, John K., Junior died Feb. 21, 1899 and James H. went June 13, 1936.
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2 comments:

  1. After we paid for our kids summer camp new hampshire we found it tough to recover! I totally agree with you!

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  2. Anonymous9:01 AM

    Hello, I too am a decendent of Peter Bain from Scotland. I loved this story. Thank you so very much for printing it on-line. My father was Noel Edward Bain, his father was Curtis Clifton Bain, his father was Mark Daniel Bain, then John Bain, then David Bain, then Robert Edward Bain, then of course Peter Bain. My father was born in Mississippi, then moved to Memphis, TN in the 40's. Thanks again for this story.......Sincerely, Anna Kathryn Bain

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